


The Transfer

by aly_m_cap



Series: The Transfer [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, F/M, Mark of Cain, Reader Bears the Mark of Cain, reader is a witch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-01 06:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16279403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aly_m_cap/pseuds/aly_m_cap
Summary: You weren’t born in this life. You became a hunter, and a powerful Witch of Light after the death of your boyfriend Matthew. You stumbled upon the Winchester brother’s while you were seeking your revenge against the witch who killed your boyfriend. They eventually asked you to move in with them and you did. Things escalated while you were with the boys, Dean took on the Mark of Cain and it turned him into someone no one knew. Sam vowed to remove the Mark from his brother and cure him, while you had other ideas to rid Dean of the Mark.





	1. Matthew

You struggled to open your eyes, the ache behind your closed lids was ruthless. You groaned against the pain inside your skull that was causing nausea to bubble into your stomach. A wicked, high pitched laugh startled you, causing your eyes to shoot open.

You bucked against invisible ropes as you watched your elderly neighbor chant above your boyfriend, Matthew, who was strapped to a table. Candles were strategically placed on a small, round table beside him and were the only source of light in the room, making the light from your neighbors eyes apparent; casting a lavender glow against Matthew as he writhed in pain beneath her. She snickered, “This is what you get for trying to take something of mine, dear.”

You struggled against the magic bindings as you watched blood pour out of his mouth, “Matthew!” You stomped your foot in frustration, “What are you doing to him?”

She turned towards you, her graying hair was disheveled, eyes sunken in, as her mouth upturned into a impish, decayed grin, “Oh sweetheart, your boyfriend did something that he wasn’t supposed to.”

You struggled further, the binds unmoving, “He didn’t do anything! He didn’t take anything!”

Your neighbor cackled, sending shivers down your spine, “Oh sweetheart, he did.” She turned her attention back towards Matthew, “Now, just give me what you took dear and all of this will end.”

Matthew looked at your neighbor and then to you. Tears formed in his eyes before he looked towards your neighbor again. He ground his teeth together and spit blood mixed with saliva at her, “Bite me, witch.” He smirked, “You’ll never find it.”

Did you just hear him right? A witch? They’re real? There’s no way.

You heard, hell even told, ghost stories when you were younger about every monster imaginable. Monsters actually being real? It was something you never fathomed.

But, the way that Matthew laid against the table as the witch tortured him, calm, he knew. Matthew knew about witches, and God knows what else, were real. You gaped at the scene in front of you, it all finally sinking in.

Monsters were real.

You broke from your internal struggle as she wiped at her face and snickered, “Wrong answer my dear.” The purple glow of her eyes returned as she chanted above him again. He writhed against his bindings as blood seeped out of his ears, eyes, and mouth.

His outcries of pain burned through your soul, causing tears to overflow onto your face. You struggled as hard as you could, but it was no use. You couldn’t break free to help him.

All you could do was watch as he died in front of you. You sobbed as you watched the light leave his eyes. The witch snickering above him. Tears still streaming down your face, “You’ll pay for this,” you spit out.

The witch just laughed, snapping her fingers and disappearing. The binds gone, you ran over to Matthew. As you stroked his blood covered face you vowed, “She will pay for this. I’ll make sure of it.”

A book being slammed onto the table brought you back to reality, “Sammy, I told you no!”

You looked around the library; books of lore were strewn across the tables, shelves were empty, and Dean was standing over Sam, fuming. Sam’s hair was sticking out erratically from lack of sleep and his hands running through the strands countless times, dark circles and stubble adorned his stressed features, “And I told you that I’m not going to let this turn you into a monster again, Dean!”

Dean unconsciously rubbed at the Mark of Cain on his right forearm, giving his brother the classic Winchester Bitchface, “Sammy, let it go.”

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean stormed out of the room towards the bunker’s kitchen, “I’m not letting go.” He looked towards you, “I can’t lose him, Y/N.”

You nodded as you heard the clambering of pans and glass in the kitchen, “I know, Sam. I can’t either.” You sat forward in the wooden chair, leaning your elbows on top of the various lore books on the table, speaking low, “And I think I figured out a way to save your brother.”


	2. Two Winchesters, Two Witches

You seethed, vision red, as you watched the witch walk around her home. Light softly cascaded from the candlelit windows onto the night darkened lawn. She twirled around her front room, multiple jars of different ingredients filled her arms and littered the table.

You slid out of your car, quietly shutting the door just in case. Shaking out your limbs and cracking your knuckles, you heard to low grumble of engine pull up towards the witches house. You grabbed your pistol from the back of your waistband as you squinted towards the 1967 Chevy Impala. Two tall men slid out of the classic car with guns drawn. The shorter of the two motioned towards the tallest as they both continued around to the back of the house.

You rolled your eyes and grumbled, “Fuck,” under your breath. These boys were going to ruin this for you.

You trudged up toward the house, pissed off, but remained quiet. Gun drawn, you softly opened the front door, hoping to God that the hinges wouldn’t creak.

“Well, hello boys,” the witch snickered. You laid against the wall of the entry way as she continued, “Nice to see you Winchester boys, again.”

You scrunched your brows and mouthed, “Again?”

A gruff voice full of anger and disdain barked towards the witch, “You aren’t getting away this time, bitch.”

You smirked before the witch cackled, “You boys.” You could hear her walk around the room, “You always think you can get every monster, save everyone, but that won’t be the case.” She chuckled and sighed, “At least not with me.”

She chanted, causing the men to gasp for breath, choking on some sort of body fluid. Blood most likely.

You stepped away from the wall, placing your gun back into your waistband, and stood in front of the doorway, “Hey!” The witch turned towards you, her decrepit and decaying face more twisted since the last time you saw her, “Remember me sweetcheeks?”

She squinted, “Matthew’s whore.”

You chuckled, “Yeah.” You stepped forward, rubbing your hands together, “You fucked up leaving me alive.”

The witch chuckled, “It’s cute you think you can do something to me.” She turned towards the boys, “It’s cute you all think you can do something to me. But you can’t.”

You laughed, wiping a fake tear from your cheek, “That’s what you think.” You began chanting, the witches body and face twisting in pain, the boys getting their breath back. You smiled, your pure energy, although fueled by rage at the moment, was no match to her darkness.

The thing Matthew stole from her, was her biggest weakness. The Book of Light. A powerful spell book that few people could handle. At the time, you figured you’d either learn, gain the power, and get the witch or die.

Either way, it wouldn’t have been a loss in your book.

The boys watched you, dumbfounded, as you killed the witch. You were full of relief as you watched her crumple under your power, but it was short lived.

Once she was dead, revenge didn’t feel as good as you thought it would have.

You stood over her body, the clearing of a throat breaking you from your silent defeat. You turned around, guns raised towards you as the taller one spoke, “Who are you?”

You sighed, “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” You looked towards the witch and back towards the two giants, “Who are you?”

The shorter of the two ignored your question, “Tell me why I shouldn’t put this bullet in your head right now.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh yeah, I’m a big bad witch.” Scoffing, you gestured towards them, “If I wanted to kill you, you would have been dead by now,” looking back towards the witch, “I don’t use my magic on humans.”

The boys looked towards each other, having a silent conversation, before they lowered their guns. The taller one spoke, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m Sam Winchester,” he pointed to the other man by his side, “and this is my brother Dean.”

You nodded, “Nice to meet you guys.” Brows furrowed, you pointed your thumb over your shoulder at the witch, “How’d you guys know this bitch?”

They both chuckled, Dean speaking first, “It’s a long story.”

Sam cleared his throat, “What’s your story with her?”

You giggled, “It’s a long one.” You walked towards the Winchester’s to leave, “One long enough for a drink if you want to come.”

“Y/N!” Snapping fingers ripped you from your thoughts, “Y/N, what’s your idea?”

You bit your lip, “You’re not going to like it Sam.” You sighed, “Dean especially won’t either.”

Sam’s brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

You ran a hand through your hair, “I can take it.”

Sam looked at you, confused, “What?”

“I can take it. I can take the Mark, Sam.”


	3. Your Plan

Pulling up to the bunker was the last thing you expected. The rundown, small parts of the exterior that were visible didn’t make your decision to move in with the Winchester’s settle well in your stomach.

Dean saw your wide-eyed expression in the back seat and chuckled, “It’s not like this on the inside. Sam and I thought the same thing when we first came to this place.”

You nodded, settling back into the worn leather seat of the impala as Dean drove down through a tunnel, ending in the garage of the bunker. Your jaw dropped as Sam opened the old creaky doors of the garage. Fluorescent lighting lit up the soft blue and green colored garage, many antique cars and a motorcycle sat in the lined parking spots of the garage.

Dean pulled into a spot close to another door and turned around after he turned the ignition off, “Home sweet home, Y/N.”

You gulped and grabbed your bags from beside you in the seat. You slowly opened the impala’s door, taking in the vast surroundings of the garage as the boys walked towards the other door of the garage, “You coming Y/N?” Sam looked at you worried. He didn’t know what you were thinking.

You smiled, putting him at ease, “Yeah. I’m coming!” You threw your strap up on your shoulder and followed the boys into your new home.

“Are you serious, Y/N?” Sam growled.

You nodded softly, “Yeah Sammy. I’m serious.” You opened a page in the spellbook in front of you, “This spell. I can transfer the mark onto myself, that way you’ll have your brother back.”

Sam just stared, “But, we’d lose you to the mark.” 

You shrugged, “That doesn’t matter. You would have your brother back, that’s what really matters.” He began to protest and you shot your hand up, silencing him, “Sam, the mark hasn’t been on someone who had magic on their side like I do. I could be fine.” You sighed, “But you need your brother back. He’s more important than I ever could be, so I’m taking the mark and you aren’t going to stop me.”

You picked up and closed the spellbook as you moved away from the library table. You turned back towards Sam who was silently staring into space, “Don’t tell Dean either.” He looked up towards you, “I mean it Sam. I can’t have him stop me.”

He just nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to change your mind.

Sam watched you walk away, slight relief and immense worry flowing through his body. He was going to get his brother back, but lose you at the same time.

You had become like a sister to him. He didn’t want to lose you, but he also knew how right you were. Dean would always mean more to him. That’s been proven too many times throughout their lives.

He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair as he tried to figure out what to do. If he told Dean, he surely would stop you. Even with your magic, Dean would somehow stop you.

Dean couldn’t lose you.

The bunker’s door opened and Dean’s hard footfalls echoed off the metal staircase throughout the library. Sam half-smiled at his brother when he came into view.

Dean smirked, a six pack of beer in tow, “Hey Sammy.” Dean looked around the library as he took out a bottle and popped the top off, “Where’s Y/N?” He took a long sip of beer, “Thought she’d be helping you doing research.”

Sam nodded towards the direction you left him moments before, “She went to her room for awhile. She needed a break for a bit.”

Dean nodded as he continued to sip as realization hit Sam. He was going to continue to do research. He was going to get rid of the mark, no matter who it was on.

He wasn’t going to lose anyone else.


	4. Transferring the Mark

A long red cloth covered the top of the worn oak wood of your dresser, with a large gold bowl sat in the center of it. You aligned the ingredients for the spell along your dresser, and sighed as you looked over everything again. 

You needed everything to be perfect. This spell had to work. 

You shook out your limbs before you started, washing out the nerves and anxiety that were building in your body. With a final deep breath, you grabbed the first ingredients for the spell. “Okay,” you mumbled to yourself as you raised them above the bowl. 

As you poured, you began chanting. You knew this spell by heart having studied it so many times, but you still checked your spellbook periodically, just in case. 

When you finished the spell, your heart shattered into pieces as you looked at your arms. The mark wasn’t there. 

Then you heard Dean. “Dammit Sammy! What did you do?” 

And then you felt it. 

Searing, mind-numbing pain ebbed along your right forearm. All you could do was scream, trying to cope with the torment. You crumpled to the floor, bringing the gold bowl and ingredients down with you. 

Staring at your arm, you watched the mark scorch your skin, as the pain ebbed. You heard the boys rush down the hall and bust through your door. You could only imagine how bad the scene in front of them looked. The red cloth hanging off your dresser, ingredients strewn across your room and surround you as your gold bowl lay upturned on the floor, and you, a crumpled mess on the floor with the Mark of Cain on your arm. 

Sam slid towards you, “Y/N? Are you okay?” 

All you could do was nod. You were in shock. Shock that the spell actually worked and shocked at the change you felt in yourself. 

The Mark was powering you in ways you didn’t imagine. You could feel the desire to kill pulsing through your veins, fighting against the light within your soul. 

Looking up towards Dean, your stomach sank. The pure, unadulterated fury that was engraved within Dean’s features and stance scared you. You knew he was going to be upset with this, but you didn't expect to see him vibrating with rage above you. “Y/N,” he barked, “What did you do?” 

Tears forming in your lower lids you took a deep breath, letting your courage build so your voice didn’t waver. “I took the Mark, Dean.” You looked towards Sam, “Sam deserved his brother back.” 

Dean clenched his fists, “But for the cost of you? You’re just as important to us.” 

You stood on shaky legs, shoving a pointed finger in Dean’s face, “Don’t start, Dean. ‘Cause you and I, and even Sam, all know that you two will always be more important to each other than anyone else. You’ve proven that way too many times.” You walked away from the stunned Winchesters towards the mirror on the opposite side of the room. The Mark seemed to glow slightly against your skin. Running your hand over it softly, you spoke through gritted teeth, “It’s done. I’m not reversing it.” Dean began to argue, ready to take the Mark back when you snarled, “Leave. Now.” 

You could see Sam drag Dean out of your room in the mirror, definitely not over what just happened. Standing in the mirror, you watched how your body reacted to the Mark. You could almost see it’s influence flowing through your body, strengthening your muscles, changing the chemistry of your brain. 

You couldn’t let the Mark take over like it had Dean. You had magic on your side. You could live with the Mark peacefully, you were sure of it. 

Breaking from your mirrored trance, you walked over to your spell book. There had to be a spell to suppress this, and if there wasn’t, you were going to make one.   
\----  
Sam watched his brother as he threw a pot across the kitchen. Dean stalked towards the fridge, ripped the door open and grabbed a beer. He shook his head in annoyance as he down his beer. 

Sam sighed, “Dean, look.” 

Dean shot a look, silencing Sam and his lips broke from the brown glass of the beer bottle. “No, Sammy. This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so dead set of curing me of the Mark.” 

Sam started to see red, knowing this wasn’t his fault. “I didn’t tell her to do this, Dean. She’s a big girl, she decided to do this herself.” He huffed, trying not to say something he wouldn’t mean to his brother, “It wouldn’t have mattered if I was looking for a cure or not. She saw what the Mark was doing to you Dean. You were losing yourself.” Sam sighed, looking towards the floor, “We were losing you.” 

Dean just stared past Sam, sipping on his beer. They sat in silence for awhile, Dean startling Sam when he spoke again, “I want in looking for a cure now.” He set his beer down, walking towards the doorway of the kitchen, “We aren’t losing her to that thing.” 

Sam nodded, fully agreeing with his brother as they both walked towards the library continuing their research for the cure.


	5. You're Dangerous

Three duffels were thrown onto the map table in annoyance as Dean’s voice boomed over you, “You aren’t going on anymore hunts, Y/N.” 

Anger began boiling your blood, turning your vision red. Effects of the Mark for sure. “You can’t bench me, Winchester,” you hissed. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, “You almost killed me! And, not to mention the absolute mess you left for us to clean up. The Mark is making you dangerous, Y/N.” 

You grabbed your stuff off the table and stormed off to your room, “oh yeah, because you were just the cuddliest thing with this on your arm.” You retorted. 

You could hear the boys sigh and mumble to each other when you walked down the hall towards your room. Well, if I’m so dangerous then I shouldn’t be here.

Throwing only the essentials into your bag, you made room for spell ingredients. You cleared your shelf of ingredients as spells for protection, hiding, and suppressing the Mark ran through your head. You waited until you heard the soft thuds of the boys’ bedroom doors closing and soft snores flow into the hallway before you snuck out of yours. You slunk into the garage, eyeing the vehicles parked before your eyes landed on Ol’ Faithful, Mae. 

Soon after moving in with the boys, you had found a ‘67 Chevy Malibu. It needed a lot of work, but you wanted, no, needed to have something of yours. You needed to get your hands dirty, fix something up like Dean had fixed Baby as many times as he has. 

As you slid your hands over the steering wheel, the memory from that day played over again in your mind.

You ran your hand over the dusty, crimson hood of the rusting car. Your heart hurt looking at such a beautiful car, decayed and unusable. 

“Really?” Dean huffed beside you, “This isn’t and never will be Baby.” 

You threw a side-eyed glare at him, “I don’t want your Baby, Winchester. I want my own Baby.” 

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked around the car, “It’s going to need a lot of work,” he looked up towards you, “You know that?” 

You nodded eagerly, “I know. But, that’s what I love about this. Build her back up, like you have with Baby.” 

Dean smirked as he continued looking over the car, “How much is it again?” 

“Five-hundred. I talked to the owner. It was her dad's car, he got too sick to keep up with it. It sat outside for years. Now he’s gone so she wants it gone.” 

Dean nodded. Tapping the hood gently with his hand he smiled, “Let’s get her back to the bunker.” 

You and Dean drove back to the bunker, grabbing the old Ford truck that sat in the garage and a trailer. You constantly looked out the back window towards the car, making sure it was still on the trailer until you made it back to the bunker’s garage. Dean had gotten a kick out of you, worrying about a car as much as he worried about Baby. 

You worked on the car for months, some days alone, but mostly with Dean. He marvelled at you, the way you handled the obstacles of rebuilding the body, how meticulous you were with the silver decals, and how set you were on making the car look like the original. Of course, that had caused some fights between you two, Dean thinking he knew what you should do with your car. But, as you always reminded him, it was your car. You wanted it to look how you wanted. 

As you started the engine, that final day of working on the Malibu flooded your thoughts.

“Okay!” Dean rolled out from underneath the car, his face covered in sweat streaked grease, “She’s ready, Y/N.” He wiped his hands and threw the grease darkened, red cloth onto the tool cart, “You wanna start her?” 

You bounced up and down with keys in hand, “Yes!” 

You ran to the driver’s side door and wiped your hands on the front of your jeans, not wanting any remnants of grease to get on the handle. You took a deep breath as you opened the door slowly. Sliding into the driver’s seat, you ran your hands over the cream-colored wheel before sliding the key into the ignition. Closing your eyes you said a silent, ‘Please start’. 

When the car roared to life, you beamed at Dean, tears pricking your eyes. “Wanna take a ride, Winchester?” 

Dean laughed, “Hell yeah!” He opened the doors to the garage, letting you drive through before he got in. 

You drove the car for hours, Dean watching you with admiration the whole time. 

You stopped at a fast food joint, ordering some burgers and fries before you went back to the bunker. Stopping in a secluded field a mile from home, you both watched the sunset as you ate. The sky’s changing colors cast a calming orange glow over the both of you. 

“What are you going to name her?” Dean asked between bites of his burger. 

You laid your burger in your lap, playing with the wrapper as you were thinking. “Mae.” 

Dean nodded, “Baby and Mae.” He chewed the words along with his burger, “I like it.” 

You shook off the feelings that were brought up with the memory as you drove towards the smallest hole in the wall motel you could find. You weren’t going to be far, but you couldn’t stay with the boys.

You couldn’t put them in danger any longer.  
\----  
Dean walked into the library, “Hey Sammy.” He was cut off by a raised finger and Sam talking on the phone. He rolled his eyes at his brother as he took a seat at the table. 

“Okay. Thanks Charlie, we’ll be there soon.” Dean looked at Sam quizzically and Sam returned the look with a raised brow, “Charlie found the Book of the Damned, but now she’s being followed because of it.”

Dean sighed, “Great. Where is she?” 

“I gave her a location for one of Bobby’s old cabins, she’s headed there now.” Sam rubbed his hands over his face, “She safe for now at least, but I told her we would meet her there.” 

Dean stood up, “Have you seen Y/N at all today?” 

Sam shook his head, “No, I haven’t even heard her all day.” 

Dean turned on his heel and stormed off towards your room without another word, worry creating a pit in his stomach. Did he take things too far last night? He opened your bedroom door and looked around. All your ingredients, normally lined up nicely on the shelf, were gone, some clothes were gone, and your toiletries were gone. 

He ran out of your room, back towards the library, “Sammy, she’s gone.” 

“How do you kn-.” 

Dean cut him off, “All of her spell ingredients are gone, clothes are gone, and I bet if I walk into the garage, Mae is gone too.” 

Sam sighed, “Okay. Well, I’ll go to Charlie. You go look for Y/N and meet up with us after you find her.” 

Dean nodded haphazardly as a cold sweat started to form over his forehead. He needed to find you, he needed to know that you were okay, that you forgave him for what he said. He threw a bag together quickly, and ran towards the garage.   
\----

Ringing broke the silence Dean had been sitting in for hours, startling him, “Yeah, Sammy?” 

“We have the Book of the Damned. I called Cas and Crowley, they’re willing to help us out with all of this.” Dean heard his brother snicker on the other end of the line, “I think Crowley is afraid of Y/N, Witch mixed with the Mark doesn’t settle well with him.” 

“Yeah. We also have a plan to get Rowena to help us out, we’ll have to double cross her a bit but, you and I both know what she’s capable of.” 

Dean nodded, even though his brother couldn’t see him, “Yeah. She’d do anything to get her hands on that book and use it for whatever she wanted.” Dean sighed as he stared at the onyx sky, lit up only by the stars, “I haven’t found her yet. I tried looking at the history on her credit cards but, I think she’s using cash. I don’t know if I’ll find her Sammy.” 

“We’ll find her, Dean. Don’t worry.” 

\----  
You felt cold, hard ground underneath you. Dry, crinkling grass was grasped between your closed fists. Opening your eyes, dark storm-like clouds surrounded you as the wind whipped. “What the- ?” 

You looked down around you as you stood up. How the hell were clouds like these down on the ground? This is impossible. 

And then you saw someone walk toward you. A woman. Her long, brown hair unmoving in the current chaos you were standing in. Her black gown flowed out behind her as she smiled, “Y/N.” 

The way she said your name sent shivers down your spine. You felt a connection towards her, a deep connection that you didn’t understand. 

“Who are you?” 

You looked at her with wide eyes as she laughed, “You’ll see soon enough, Y/N.” 

You shot out of bed, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. Looking around the motel room, you focused on the alarm clock to your right. 4:36 am. You groaned as you flopped back on the bed, not happy with how little sleep you had gotten. 

You stared at the ceiling wide awake, reeling. Who was that woman?


	6. Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character Death

It had been 48 hours since you had left the bunker, 36 hours since Dean started the impala to find you. Baby had been running ever since. 

Fatigue was starting to get to him as his phone pierced the silence in the passenger seat.. Shaking off his nerves from the interruption, he looked at the caller I.D. 

Sam. 

“Yeah? What’s going on?” 

“A lot actually,” Sam sighed on the other end. Dean could only imagine his brother, a stoic look etched into his features and his free hand rubbing at his brows. He smirked at the image as Sam continued. “We have Rowena, she’s working with Charlie to make a usable codex.” Sam paused to clear his throat. “Tensions are high between them to say the least.” 

Dean chuckled, “I’m sure.” 

“Charlie can’t stand Rowena. It’s taking everything in both Cas and I to keep her from ripping Rowena’s throat out.” Sam chuckled softly on the other end over the awkward situation they all were currently in. 

“Hey, I don’t know if that would exactly be a bad thing. A witch without a throat can’t do much, can they?” 

Sam let out a breathy laugh, “Probably not.” He paused, listening to someone. Presumably Cas. Dean could hear a frustrated sigh leave his brother through the phone.

“Hey, Sammy.” 

“Yeah, Dean?” 

“I know you’re busy. Go deal with whatever you guys got going on over there. I’m going to keep looking for Y/N. I’ll call you when I find her.” 

“Okay. Dean, you’ll find her. Don’t worry.” 

“Hmph, thanks.” Dean pulled the phone from his ear and hit the red end call button. 

As he threw his phone back onto the passenger side of the seat, a red blur sped past him, causing him to slam on the brakes. Was that Mae? He threw Baby into reverse, hoping that the sleek classic car he had seen was in fact Mae. 

He could have cried tears of joy when he saw the half-hidden ‘67 Malibu behind the grungiest motel in Kansas. Putting Baby in drive, he swung into the parking lot. 

It took a hundred dollars and some physical coercion to get the motel owner to tell him what room you were staying in, but he got the room number. That’s all that mattered. 

He walked towards room 37 with key in hand, nerves building, and a pit in his stomach. Quietly sliding the key into the lock, he turned it slowly, not wanting to alert you of his presence. 

As he opened the door, you were passed out on crimson satin sheets. A thin layer of sweat kissed your skin, causing fly away hairs to stick to your forehead. The way the room looked, and the sheets tangled around you, you hadn’t had a great last couple of nights. Dean remembered the types of dreams the Mark would leave him with. They were never pretty. 

But, as he watched you sleep, his heart swelled. Even though the Mark was, causing nightmares, you still looked serene and beautiful while you slept. He didn’t have the heart to wake you, at least not yet, seeing how little sleep you seem to have gotten.

He walked around the room, tidying things up quietly as you slept. He didn’t know what to expect when you would wake up. Would you scream at him? Would you be thankful he came? Would you tell him you didn’t want to be around him anymore? That question stung as he thought about it. He never wanted you to leave, he wanted you to stay. He needed you. 

He loved you. 

He sat in the chair against the wall that faced your bed. He knew the only way to keep you around, to let them help you, was to tell you how he felt. 

Since the day you picked up Mae, Dean knew that you were going to steal his heart, in more ways than one. He had never met a woman as, in his words, awesome as you. You weren’t born into this life, you chose this. You developed powers to help people. Yeah, he and Sam stopped the apocalypse, but that seemed so minute to him compared to everything you had done in the 7 years you had been in this life. 

You woke up with a hoarse scream, startling Dean from his thoughts. He rushed to the bed, “Y/N? You okay?” 

You squinted at him, not sure what you were really seeing. Is he really here? “Dean?” you breathed, chest heaving. 

He smiled softly, “Yeah, Y/N. It’s me.” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you wiped the sweat from your forehead, “Wha- How-? How did you find me?” 

Dean chuckled, “You didn’t hide Mae as well as you thought.” 

You grumbled and untangled yourself from the sheets.You got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom. You stood in front of the sink, looking at your disheveled appearance as Dean appeared in the mirror behind you. 

He leaned against the door frame and watched your reflection, “Why did you leave?” 

You sighed, turning away from the sink to face him. You sat on the edge of the sink and crossed your arms against your chest, “Because the Mark makes me dangerous, Dean. You even said it yourself.” 

Dean’s head hung low, “I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N.” 

“Oh really? Then how did you mean it?” You retorted. 

He sighed as he at you. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head as the expression changed on his face. “You were just reckless, Y/N.” He pushed off the door jamb and walked closer to you, “I don’t care if I die. I never have. But the way I watched you hunt a couple days ago? I saw that you didn’t care what happened to you either, and I couldn’t handle that.” 

“What do you mean ‘you couldn’t handle that’?” 

He took a small step, putting mere inches between you two. “You’re too important to me, Y/N. I can’t lose you.” He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Because of the Mark, if you die, you turn into a demon. A-And, I don’t know what I would do if that happened.” 

You ran a hand through sweat dampened and knotted locks, “What do you mean Dean?” 

He grabbed your hands softly, lacing his fingers through yours as he closed the remaining distance between you. He stared at his hands in yours, “What I’m saying is,” looking back towards you, “I love you, Y/N.” You looked at him, wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape. Your shocked silence sent the wrong message to him, “I understand if you don’t fee-.” 

You cut him off by fervently pressing your lips against his. You snaked your arms around his neck as his wrapped around your waist. You could feel all the tension leave his body as the kiss deepened. 

For once, since you had taken the Mark, you had felt normal. Like a school girl kissing the popular kid in school. You didn’t feel the need to kill as your lips melded with Dean’s, his moving in sync with yours. 

Dean broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours with closed eyes, “Please come back home.” 

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

You reluctantly pulled away to, gather the rest of your things and put them in Baby’s trunk. Dean refused to let you pack up Mae because you could leave again. If he had your things, at least in his mind, it would deter you from leaving again. 

You diligently followed Dean home and you could see him check his mirrors frequently for you until you reached the tunnel for the bunker. 

Dean grabbed your bags as you parked Mae. “You know I can get my own bags, right?” 

He smiled, “I know, but I wanted to grab these for you.” 

You rolled your eyes and walked into the bunker, “Whatever, Winchester.” 

You could hear him snicker behind you as you walked through the door. You called out over your shoulder once you hit the hallway towards the bathroom, “I’m going to shower real quick, Dean.” 

You could hear a mumbled ‘Okay’ as you slipped into the bathroom. You cranked the hot water handle and undressed quickly. Steam began to fill the cool room as you stepped into the shower. 

The warm water ran over your body, releasing some of the tension from your muscles. The Mark was becoming more powerful, no matter what type of suppression spells you used for its effects. You were constantly looking for a fight. Ready to kill. 

You were beginning to worry if you’d be able live in peace with the Mark. 

Sighing, you stepped out of the shower, refusing to let the silence of the shower make you think what could happen. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you opened the door to the bathroom and walked to your room. Dean was inside, placing your spell ingredients neatly along your shelves. 

You stifled a laugh as he turned towards you, his eyes grew wide and he almost dropped the jar of cats-eye shells when he saw you in just a towel. “You didn't have to do this Dean. I could have unpacked.” 

He collected himself quickly and cleared his throat, “I-I know. I just wanted to help out.” 

You smiled, “Well, thank you.” 

You walked towards your dresser, Dean eyeing you as you did. “I’m going to get dressed. So, um.” You tugged at your towel slightly, “You can stay or go. Up to you.” 

“Uhh…” Dean’s face turned a vivid shade of pink and a thin layer of sweat formed on his forehead. “I’ll, uh,” he placed the jar of cats-eye shells on the shelf, “I’ll go. I have to call Sam anyway.” 

You nodded and began to shuffle through your drawers for clothing. You could hear Dean on the phone in the hallway while you dressed. You opened your door, ready to join him when you heard him exclaim, “Charlie’s gone?” 

You slipped back into the confines of your room, listening intently to his conversation. “She left with the codex?” Dean said a bit quieter. “Oh, she left to figure out the codex, because that makes it better,” he scoffed.

Codex? What Codex?

“Well, we need to find her Sammy. We need her to get the Mark off of Y/N.” 

You bit your lip as you listened. They’re still trying to remove the Mark. You took a deep breath to calm down. You didn’t need your anger to bubble up now when Charlie is in trouble. 

You stepped out into the hallway, Dean’s back to you with the phone still at his ear. “Let’s go get Charlie.” 

Dean turned around, regret written all over his face realizing you heard him. “Y/N…” 

You held a finger up at him, “Zip it, Winchester. Charlie is in trouble. We help her first and I’ll deal with you two afterwards.” You pushed past him, towards the map room where your weapons bag was waiting. 

Dean caught up to you as he was hanging up the phone, “Sammy, Y/N and I are going to go look for Charlie.” 

You grabbed your bag without a word and stalked towards the garage. You threw your things into Mae and turned around to see an incredulous Dean standing next to Baby. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, “Listen Winchester. I’m driving Mae, so either you join me or find your own way.” 

His shoulders dropped slightly, defeated by your proposition and flopped into the front seat. Peeling out of the garage, you began your search for Charlie. 

\---- 

Sam called to give you information about Charlie’s whereabouts. Dean shoved his phone in his pocket and spoke anxiously, “Blackbird Motel.” 

You nodded as you pressed the accelerator further. “We’re close. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

“Sam said she was panicking. The Stynes-” you shot him a confused look, “-the family who owned the Book of the Damned, were beating down her door, looking for it. If she gets hurt…” He trailed off. 

You snapped, “If she gets hurt, it’s your fault.” Your eyes remained on the road as your knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “You two got her into this mess, and now we may lose her because of it.” 

You knew you that hurt him, but you also knew that he knew you were right. You told them not to continue research on getting rid of the Mark, but they didn’t listen, and now you might lose a family member because of it.

An eerie feeling created a pit in your stomach. You knew Charlie wasn’t okay, and you couldn’t figure out why. 

You pulled into the parking lot of the motel, not bothering to actually park correctly. You grabbed your pistol and ran towards the motel. A door left ajar caught your attention, and you were terrified your feeling was becoming reality. 

You stepped into the room, the door jamb was splintered, furniture was turned over and then your eyes focused on the bathroom door. Ripped off its hinges and cracked in almost half, wood was splintered all over the grungy carpet. “Charlie?” You called out as you walked towards the bathroom. 

No answer. 

You approached the doorway, seeing blood before you saw her. Contorted in the tub, blood spattered across the tile and all over her.

Charlie was dead. 

You turned away and stormed out as Dean approached the bathroom. A broken, “Charlie,” escaped his lips as you ripped your phone out of your pocket. You flung open Mae’s door, apologizing to her for the rough handling, before you dialed Sam’s number. 

“Y/N? Did you find her?” 

 

“She’s dead. Get your ass here. Now.” You hung up. 

The Mark’s influence was not helping your anger. You seethed in your car until Sam came to the motel. The boys walked on eggshells around you as they wrapped Charlie up, preparing for the hunter’s funeral. You watched them load firewood into a pile and softly placed Charlie in the center of the pit. Tears stung your eyes as you lit the match and threw it at the wood, setting everything ablaze. You stared at the fire, letting the heat fan the anger that was building inside you. 

The ride back to the bunker was silent. All hell broke loose as soon as you entered the library. 

“Y/N,” Sam pleaded. 

You whipped around fast enough to give the boys whiplash. You shoved a finger into Sam’s chest as your blood boiled,your words dripping with venom, “No Sam. Don’t. This is your fault.” You looked towards Dean, “And yours.” You were sure you looked absolutely wild. Luckily your jacket was hiding the faint glow the Mark had when you were this riled up. “This ‘research’ for the curestops right now.” They tried to speak, to defend themselves, but it only fueled your fire further, “No one else is going to get hurt. Do you hear me?” They just nodded their heads, hoping you would back off. 

You turned to walk towards you room but stopped, “IF I find out you two start looking again, you are going to have to deal with me. And I’ll be a hell of a lot worse than whatever will come out of removing this Mark.” 

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel to your room and slammed the door as hard as you could. You flopped onto your bed and let all your emotions flood your mind. Silent tears flowed down your cheeks as you thought about Charlie. You mourned for what seemed like hours but was merely minutes before exhaustion enveloped you. 

\---- 

Dean slid a glass of whiskey across the table to Sam as they sat at the table in the library. “Thanks,” Sam murmured, engrossed in his laptop that sat in front of him. 

Dean shook his head, “We’re not stopping, right?” 

Sam looked at his brother with determination in his eyes, “Not at all.” His laptop dinged, gaining both their attention. Sam clicked on his email as his brow furrowed, “It’s from Charlie.” 

Dean got up from his seat, abandoning his whiskey on the table to look over his brother’s shoulder. “What’s it say?”

Sam let out a breath of relief, “It’s the codex. She must have cracked it before…..” He couldn’t finish that sentence. It would only make it real.

They couldn’t stop now. Not when they were so close.


End file.
